De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (23 page)

Ceidre had shriveled up before her eyes, wasting away with fever. She had lost her temptress's beauty.

She was a gaunt skeleton of her old self.

"Do you think she will die?"Alice demanded again impatiently.

Maryshifted nervously. "I think so," she squeaked. She had never been asked by her mistress for her opinion before and was afraid to give it.

Alicehad always hoped Ceidre would die. In the beginning, a week ago, when she had locked Ceidre in with a bare minimum of water and nothing else, she had felt triumph. The witch would learn her place, she would suffer; and whenAlice had realized a day later that her sister was ill, she had hoped that she would die. But now there was no feeling of triumph, just anxiety.

If Ceidre died, would she be blamed?

She thought of theNorman and tried to imagine what he would do. Her anxiety made her want to vomit.

She had no doubts he would lock her in some shed and throw away the key-forever. After whipping her, of course.Alice vividly imagined herself under the lash, she could even feel its excruciating pain as it sliced open her delicate skin. She shuddered. Tears came to her eyes. It wasn't fair. Ceidre would die if left unattended, and it was what she deserved. ButAlice would pay a price she could not afford and was afraid to face. Therefore, she would have to try to save her wretched sister. But what if she died
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anyway?

"Send for that old witch,Mary , and now. No."Alice grabbed her arm. "You get her yourself, tell her Ceidre is dying, make her bring all her potions. Quickly. Go!"Alice pushed her hard out the door.

She walked forward to stand over her shaking, fevered sister. She wished theNorman could see her now. He would feel no lust, only revulsion. It was a wonderful fantasy, but reality intruded.LordRolfe would punish her,Alice , if he saw Ceidre now, soAlice realized she had better pray that Ceidre make a fast recovery before he returned. There were other ways to get rid of her bastard sister; hadn't he said he would consider marrying her off? Maybe he would marry her to a Scot to secure his northern borders, and that would be the end of Ceidre. What a perfect idea!

Alicedecided to go to the chapel. The whole village would know that she was praying for her sister's health. And she would make sure to pray every day.

Ceidre saw Death.

Death was not a leering, grotesque old man. Nor was he the devil. Instead, she was sweet and beautiful and seductive, an enchantress offering peace ever after. The- woman floated above her, around her, her ghostly flesh sweet and fragrant, her hair long and honey blond. She was perfectly formed too, and very beautiful. She smiled, and with her finger she beckoned.

Yes, Ceidre thought, I will go. I must, I cannot stay another moment in this living hell.

She hurt. Her entire body was in agony, as if crushed beneath stones. She was on fire. Throbbing. She needed water, but had none. A thought occurred -maybe she had died-maybe this was hell. Then she heard her sister's voice, asking if she would die, and she knew she was still alive.

She thought of theNorman , and anger raised its head. Death still beckoned, smiling serenely. "No,"

Ceidre tried to shout. "I cannot go yet. Go away!"

But she came closer, still smiling, so enchanting Ceidre wondered if she was a witch. Then she gasped, shocked. She realized that the woman beckoning her, floating so close, Death, was herself It could not be.

Ceidre reached out, to touch the womanly spirit in her exact image as it hovered nearby. Her other self, or Death, or whoever it was, reached for her, palm open, fingers spread. With horror, Ceidre realized Death wanted to touch her, to take her hand and lead her away from her earthly self. In confusion, she wondered if she were looking at her soul, about to depart this life.

"Come," Death crooned, her voice sweet and soft. "Come with me now."

Ceidre was panting and afraid. If her soul had left, then she was truly dead. An image of theNorman reared itself before her, his eyes hot and bright, his face hard and unyielding. "No," she shouted, dropping her hand, no longer tempted to touch the ghostly apparition. "Go away, I will not come, not yet. 'Tis too soon."

Death came closer.

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Ceidre shrank away. But there was nowhere to go, and still the woman, her mirror image, approached.

Ceidre knew she had lost, and she wept. When Death had put her face to hers, Ceidre closed her eyes for the end of all earthly time. Nothing happened. When she opened them, the eerie reflection of herself had gone.

And her grandmother smiled at her through thick tears. "Don't cry now, sweeting, 'twill be all right. You have come back, Ceidre, you have come back."

Ceidre fell back against the pillows, exhausted. She closed her eyes but gripped the flesh-and-blood hand of her granny, refusing to give it up. Had it been a dream? Or had she seen her own soul?

True to his word,Rolfe returned to Aelfgar within a fortnight of his departure.

The past sennight since he had facedWilliam 's wrath had cooled him down-barely. He could not forget that it was because of Ceidre he had lostYork , it was because of Ceidre he had lied to his king and betrayed him. This doubled his repressed ire. 'Twould not happen again. If she had to be kept under constant guard, drain though it might his resources, as every manjack was valuable to him, 'twould be done. And he was determined to recoup his losses. He would bringKingWilliamMorcar , alive or dead.

And in so doing, he would banish his own betrayal of his liege lord from all existence. He would rectify the great wrong he had committed.

The sight of his domain lifted his spirits and brought with it a rush of exhilaration. Work had continued on the new fortifications. The tower was finished, the village rebuilt, the walls of the bailey just begun. In another fortnight his fortifications would be completed and the transition to stone could be begun. He did not intend to waste a moment.

And if that witch knew where her brothers were hiding, he would find out.

He couldn't help it; he thought of her often, too often. It did not take much to make his manhood lift hard and high, just a thought, and this added to his temper. It was, he told himself, because he had not bedded a wench in a very long time, not since he had relieved himself with the peasant at Kesop. That was about to change too. His lack of desire around other women was ridiculous and annoying; if he had to force a different disposition upon himself, he would.

LadyAlicewas waiting to greet him in the courtyard, making the foulness of his mood soar. He dismounted, turning toGuy . "Any problems?"

"No, my lord, and as you can see, everything has gone well."

"Well done,"Rolfe said, placing his hand onGuy 's shoulder. The younger man could not contain a grin.Rolfe turned toAlice . "My lady, you fare well?"

She curtseyed. "Yes, my lord. I have already ordered a bath and wine. Are you tired?" Her gaze searched his face.

"No, but I am in desperate need of a bath." He wondered where that witch was.

RolfefollowedAlice inside, glancing around. No sign of Ceidre. Good, she had better stay well out of his
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sight. In his chamber he stripped methodically with his wife's help. The steaming water felt good. A knock on the door did not raise his attention.Alice ordered in the maid, bearing cheese and bread and wine.

Rolfestared at the maid. He had seen her around before, of course, and vaguely recollected that he had fucked her at Kesop, but he had never really paid attention or looked at her closely. She was dark, plump, big-breasted, and comely. He eyed her wide hips. She caught his regard and threw him a sultry glance.Rolfe ignored it. So she was amenable, not that it mattered.

"This bread is stale,"Alice said. "I will fetch more." She looked atBeth , who was gatheringRolfe 's filthy garments. "Launder those immediately."

Bethmurmured an affirmative,Alice skittered out.Rolfe was aware of her hasty departure, wondering why she was newly afraid of him. He could smell her unease, and the excuse to leave was poor-Alice was bossy enough to send the maid for more bread. The maid. She was slow to collect his things. He eyed her buttocks as she bent to retrieve his hose, big buttocks, fleshy and round. "Come here," he said.

She straightened and turned. She was smiling.

Rolfewas leaning back in the tub, waiting. She did not have to be asked twice, but strutted over, hips swinging, still carrying his clothes.Rolfe looked at the clothes and looked at the floor. She understood and dropped them. He handed her a sponge. She knelt beside him, glanced at him briefly, and began to soap his shoulder.

Rolfe's gaze was devoid of expression, but he looked at her full breasts. "Are you nursing?"

"Yes," she breathed.

Casually he reached out to cup her, her flesh full and heavy with her babe's milk. She went still. He leaned forward and took her nipple, through her tunic, in his mouth. He began to suck.

Bethgasped. She clutched his wet shoulders, shoving her bosom against his face.Rolfe released her, slightly disappointed. He was mildly aroused, he supposed, but only half hard, surely not capable of performing. Yet. The woman, he noticed, smelled sour, and it was unappealing. He refused to compare her to another-one who smelled of violets. "Tonight bathe as I am doing. Meet me in the stable after I sup."

Bethsmiled, her face flushed, her gown wet, nipple distended. "Yes, my lord, gladly," she murmured.

"Shall I finish your bath?"

He waved her away. Later would be soon enough.

Chapter 31

Something inside him quickened as he descended to take his supper, but he refused to pay it attention. It
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most certainly was not eagerness, nor anticipation. Still, he knew damn well she would be at his table, and he paused on the threshold of the hall, his gaze sweeping it and all its occupants.

Ceidre. She was already seated at the table's foot, where she normally dined. Her back was to him. His gut was so tight it ached, just from the real-life, flesh and blood presence of her, and he was angered at his response. At all of his responses, for now there was the tightening in his sac, the heavy weight, which had eluded him earlier with the maid. He strode to his place,Alice upon his heels, resolved to ignore her, and took his chair.

Everyone commenced eating at once.Rolfe had been ravenous, now he could barely get down his food.

He found he could not fight himself; he looked down the table at her. Even from this distance, he noticed her pallor. In fact, he thought she looked smaller, defenseless, vulnerable. She did not look at him. Not once.

Of course, he thought, feeling ugly, like a bitten dog. She had hated him when he was merely the Norman enemy, now she would hate him more for the punishment he had inflicted upon her. He attacked his food. When he was done, but far from replete,Alice laid a hand on his arm.

Rolfejerked his gaze to her, and at the look of contained wrath upon his face,Alice quickly let her palm slide to the table. "I am sorry," she said.

"'Tis not you," he managed gruffly. He swore to himself that tonight, once and for all, he would get Ceidre out of his system, out of his thoughts, out of his damn life.

"My lord?"

He grunted, draining a cup of wine.

"Have you given any thought to the subject we discussed?"

He tossed a bone at the dogs. They descended upon it, snarling and fighting among themselves. "Which subject?"

"Marrying my sister,"Alice said in her tiniest, most tentative voice.

The thought worsened his mood. "No." He closed the subject with his tone. In truth, he hadn't thought about it, not once. But now, now the idea taunted him. It was distasteful, repugnant. It was a solution.

He would not do it, and that was that. The decision made, he felt better, relieved. He would exorcise his lust for her in the usual way, with the maid, with any wench he happened to want. But marry her to another he would not do. Besides, she was dangerous, she needed to be kept close by, under his watchful eye. This last satisified him with its logic.

He rose abruptly. "Send Ceidre to me," he toldAlice .

Her eyes widened. "You have something to discuss with her?"

He thought of her brothers and smiled grimly. "Aye." He walked over to the hearth and stared into its flames.

He felt her approach. Her presence was tangible, sweet. Exciting. His body was alive, wired. His breath
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was more rapid, even shallow. He was perspiring. From the heat of the fire, he told himself, and laughed.

His cock had already reared itself up. He turned to face her.

He gasped.

For a moment he thought it was not her, but some haggard older relation. And then he realized it was her.

She colored at his horror, looking away. Her hands, thin and almost translucent now, clutched the folds of her gown.

Rolferecovered. He touched her chin, gently, afraid that this shadow of the woman he had left behind might break, and turned her face up. She had lost a stone. Her face was gaunt, huge dark shadows beneath her violet eyes. He looked into their depths and was moved, for they were haunted, scarred, a tableau of pain and suffering. And still so very beautiful. She was thinner, she was pale, even her hair had lost its luster, but she was still beautiful, and this amazed him. "What happened?" he managed. His voice sounded raw.

"I was ill."

Guilt, horrific, incriminating guilt, overwhelmed him. He did not have to ask, but he did. "From the flogging?"